The Unusual Suspects
by Doppler Effect
Summary: "Jim," Spock said, not quite scolding but getting there. Instead of his usual protests, he merely deadpanned, "No." Jim grinned. "I think YES! Come on, we're in an alternate universe of an alternate universe! How can we not?"
1. Chapter 1

a/n: Title's an ironic pun off the movie _The Usual Suspects_. No pairings. We're covering Tarsus IV and abuse at some point, so dark stuff there. The main characters will be the teenager versions of Jim (main POV) and Spock, who you'll meet in this chapter, but the rest of the bridge crew will show up in their universe too.

Okay, about the Kirk/Spock pairing. Send me a PM if you want to debate whether it's canon or not, 'cause I assumed it wasn't but then I watched AOS and now…I'm not sure it's not.

* * *

{_I always told myself that when I get older…_}

The first thing Jim Kirk thought when the fields of Iowa he was running through vanished, golden cornstalks blurring in his vision, was _Someone has incredible timing. _

The second thing he thought was _I hope the tomatoes come with me._

When he opened his eyes, panting from his stint back home, he immediately started at the sight of the one who met his gaze. Of a similar age, the other boy barely reacted, hardly even appearing interested at their strange situation. His eyebrows, angled upwards and parallel to the points of his ears, were a dead giveaway to his Vulcan heritage.

Today was just going to be one of those days, then.

"Well," a voice said off to their right, and both turned their heads to look over. A man, who seemed as surprised to see them as they – well, Jim, anyway, the Vulcan didn't seem to care – were to be there, blinked and shrugged. His red shirt and Starfleet insignia badge confirmed Jim's suspicions of where they were, and his accent was a hearty Scottish brogue. The stunned ensign behind the controls of the transporter unit was gaping at them, unable to move, as the Scottish man standing beside him patted his shoulder. "At least you know it wasn't your fault."

"Sir?" the ensign managed to squeak.

"I mean, even you couldnae have screwed that up this badly."

"Your actions violate thirteen Federation codes. Are you aware of the repercussions of such actions?" The Vulcan tilted his head to the side, cooling eyeing the pair of officers. Jim wished he could look that sophisticated at the moment, but that would require him to drop the tomatoes. At least if things got dicey, he could throw them at people to confuse them and then escape. See how the Vulcan would get to safety without a vegetable distraction.

But for the moment, they were going to have to be allies. It was literally them against this entire ship.

The Scottish man was entirely unimpressed, blowing out an amused breath. "Well, if you ever get worried about changing when you get older, you don't need to."

Finally, a hint of an expression crossed the Vulcan's face. The slightest frown tilted the corners of his mouth down. "Your choice of words is not logical, as I am-"

"_Hey, Scotty, are you planning on beaming us up anytime soon?"_ a voice asked from a communicator at the Scottish man's side. The man jumped, as if he'd forgotten he'd had it.

"You two better get off there," he said, raising the communicator. "Right, sir, but prepare for a wee problem in the transporter room…" With a glance at the ensign sitting next to him, he muttered, "Nothing better than to try again, especially when the consequences could be getting two _more_ of them, 'cause that's just what I need breathing down my neck."

Jim stepped off the transporter pad, tomatoes still carefully held in his arms. The Vulcan followed after him, and they stood between the glass partition of the pad and console. Ducking his head as if he were studying the cargo in his hands, Jim muttered, "Talk quietly when you answer me." The slightest inclination of his chin was the only acknowledgement. " 'Kay. Vulcans can calculate the probabilities of a situation, right?"

"That is correct," the boy murmured.

"From your judgments… Are we screwed?"

"We are aboard a starship, not in the physical act of moving in a rotating, sideways manner. Furthermore, my judgments include several probably outcomes, not a single, most likely occurrence."

Jim inwardly sighed. "Are we in a bad situation?"

Before any answer could be given, the transporter pad was activated, and two clusters of energy began to form. A moment later, the two men moved to step off the pad, but not before they caught sight of the two young teenagers standing a few meters away. All four jumped back simultaneously – as much as Vulcans could jump, which was really more of a twitch, while the other two did full double takes – and then stared at each other.

Finally, the blond haired man pointed at Jim and, turning to Scotty, demanded, "Who's _that_?"

Scotty shrugged. "The first time we tried to beam you up, these two came aboard instead. Can't reckon how they got here, and haven't had the time to look into it yet."

For the moment, it seemed like everyone in the room was in full agreement to ignore the startling similarities between the two pairs. Jim couldn't get over how the two Vulcans were eyeing each other in the same dismissive fashion. The poor ensign still seemed to be shell-shocked.

"O…kay…" the blond man said.

"Were you within twenty meters of us previous to your transportation aboard the ship?" the older Vulcan addressed his younger counterpart.

"Negative. I was not within twenty meters of any living biological system at the time of my department from Vulcan."

Apart from the Vulcan, all of the Starfleet officers jolted at the name of the planet. The former, while not reacting as strongly, still noticeably tensed. The man next to him, wearing the gold of a command station, glanced at Jim and asked, "Were you on…Vulcan, too?"

"Dude, I was in Iowa. I guess they've both got the same amount of life diversity, but different galaxies." Jim decided he was going to hit the guy in command gold with a tomato first, if he had to start throwing his prize. Something about that one just rubbed him the wrong way.

The door slid open, and a blue-shirted man walked in, tapping away at a PADD and muttering crossly under his breath. "Damn it, Jim, Spock, you're _both_ late for your physicals, which I can only explain by you both being inept, blind, or planning together to skip out on my company, which I'll point as being stupid because I can prevent you both from going to work."

"Hey, you don't even know me!" Jim protested, but was surprised to find himself speaking at the same time as the one next to him.

"Your statement is not based in fact, as my eyes are clearly functioning at full ability."

The doctor looked up from his PADD and stared at both of them for a full ten seconds, before slowing turning his head to look at the other two. In a complete deadpan, he stated, "What."

The blond man groaned, running a hand through his hair. "Scotty, figure out what went wrong and how to get these two back."

"Aye, sir."

The gold command shirt began moving, walking off the transporter pad to the wall by the door to touch the communications device beside it. "Mr. Sulu?"

"_Captain?_"

"Take us out."

"_Aye, sir._"

He released his finger from the device and turned to point at the doctor, Jim, and the Vulcans. "All of you, with me to med bay. We're getting this sorted out now."

{_…I will change the world…_}

The doctor's results were final. The biological tests matched perfectly from the older pair to the younger with room for change over the years, and the memory questions being posed every few seconds by the older were answered correctly each time. The chance of Jim and…Spock being imposters was slim. Which Jim clearly knew although he wasn't so sure these older people weren't imposters.

"What's with the tomatoes?" the captain asked.

"Stole them from Frank's garden."

"What're you going to do with them?"

"Throw them at your doctor if he comes at me with that tricorder again."

The captain grinned at him mischievously, then beamed benignly at his CMO, who scowled.

"You want me to tell you what allergies you're going to develop when you get older or not?" the man, who'd introduced himself as McCoy, asked. " 'Cause when you end up in the hospital and the only thing that can treat your infection is something you're fatally allergic to, it might be nice to know you should just tough out the infection."

Jim frowned back at him. "Really, what are the chances of that?"

McCoy waved off both Spocks who immediately opened their mouths to answer. "It happened four times to you at the Academy, so I don't want to hear anything about how it's not going to happen!" Muttering about stupid captains and their stupid first officers, he sidled off, plugging information into a PADD.

The two Vulcans were speaking in their native tongue to each other, and Jim and his older self watched them curiously until the older Spock raised his hand to place his fingers along the side of his younger's face. Both went quiet, retreating into themselves. The captain made a "Huh" sound, shrugging slightly.

"What're they doing?"

"Vulcan mind meld. It's probably the best way to confirm that they really are who they say they are. Speaking of which…"

Jim moaned. "Good God, how many more questions could you possibly have?"

"Just two. Have you heard of a planet called Tarsus IV?"

Jim frowned, thinking for a few moments. "No," he finally said. "If I have, I don't remember anything about it. Why?"

The captain paused, something clearly weighing heavily on his mind. He spared a glance toward his first officer and doctor, checking that neither was listening. "You can't tell anyone I told you this, all right?" he asked.

Jim nodded. He'd figured that if it really was his older self, he'd break down and tell him something innocuous. "Yeah, okay."

"You'll hear about Tarsus IV at some point, and you'll get a chance to go stay there for a while. I'm not saying you should take the chance or not, but if you do, there's a few things you should know." Jim nodded again to show he was listening. Another planet? Cool. "There's something funny about the food there. We never figured it out, but if you start saving food that lasts for really long periods of time, hang on to it for a few months."

"Huh?"

"Like canned foods, or crackers, stuff like that. It tastes absolutely incredible. If you go to the camp, get the other kids to stockpile it, too. Tell them you got it from an inside, anonymous source or something. And then on August 14, they do this incredible fireworks celebration at Pierce's Landing. Get as many kids as you can and hide out there for a while to watch, where you've got a good view of the town in case something happens. It'll piss the camp instructors off, but it's totally worth it. Tell the kids you got permission or something."

He blinked, but didn't interrupt. In case something happens? That seemed a bit specific.

"And if you guys ever play and hide and seek, use the cliffs to your advantage. They're a great color to hide against, and the shadows are always shifting against them because of the underbrush. Perfect size for kids, but it doesn't work so well with adults. Oh, and there's an underground warehouse stocked full of extra food that this farmer on the outskirts of town runs. Try and get access to it."

Before Jim could ask why, the Vulcans broke out the mind meld and the captain instantly shut up. He gave him this look, like they should keep that conversation to themselves. "Spock, you done?" he asked.

"Yes, captain. I see no irregularities between his mind and my own at a similar age."

The captain nodded and turned back to Jim. "Last question. Can I have a tomato?"

"No."

The captain laughed.

{_…and no one can stop me._}

Their older counterparts left to go command the ship, and the doctor followed them out the door with threats and swears about being left as a babysitter. Jim had a feeling that was the closest he was ever going to see a Vulcan to being in retreat. The captain was much less subtle, holding his arms over his head like he was ducking from phaser fire and running out the door shouting, "You'll never take me alive!"

Jim was sitting on one of the beds, elbows on his knees as he looked sullenly down at the ground. They'd told both of them that they couldn't look at records to read the future, even if that had been stated with hesitation, and the doctor had seemed certain Jim would use such information for his own purposes. Just because he was probably right didn't mean it was a nice thing to say aloud, which meant Jim was left absently wondering if he could escape from the med bay area to at least look around the ship while he had the chance.

He glanced up at Spock, who was sitting on the bed beside him. The Vulcan was staring back at him, legs swung over the side of his bed to face Jim, evidently having expected him to initiate conversation.

"It would be mutually beneficial to discuss several matters," he began.

Jim grinned. "In private. Wanna get out of here?"

Spock nodded. "The doctor does not seem like one to oblige our conversation. However, he is watching the door."

Jim leaned back, resting his hands on the cover behind him as he look around the med bay. At the end of the rows, another patient was resting, looking mostly recovered. "Has he been asleep this whole time?" Jim asked quietly.

"Yes."

"Hang on a second." He slid quietly off the bed, keeping an eye on the open doorway through which the doctor was working at his desk. When there was no movement from the other side, he half-crouched and scampered quietly across the med bay until he came to a stop by the ensign's bed.

Not bothering with subtlety, he poked the man's arm insistently. The man opened his eyes, blinking sluggishly before turning to look at the source. His gaze became clearer instantly as surprise woke him up. "Uh…"

Jim sighed in annoyance, running a hand through his hair like he'd seen his counterpart do. Maybe it was a tick he'd picked up over the years? "Yeah, I know it's weird, but it's me."

"Captain?"

Jim gestured for him to keep his voice down, glancing back in the direction of the open doorway. "Mhmm. Look, Spock got hit with…" he let his gaze move towards the Vulcan, and felt the ensign turn his head to look too, "_whatever_ went wrong, and the crazy doc's keeping us here under observation, but Spock thinks he can help Scotty work out a way to reverse it." Glancing back at the man, he finished, "Can you distract him for a moment?"

The ensign cracked a grin. "So long as you don't tell the doctor about it. I don't want his wrath down upon me, sir. Good luck."

"You got it!" Jim smiled, waved his thanks, and darted back to his original position, hopping back onto the bed. Spock stared at him for a moment and he shrugged. "Hey, using available resources."

A moment later, the ensign gave a low moan, turning over in his 'sleep'. "Doctor…!"

McCoy came out of the room, hypo at the ready with a frustrated sigh, and started towards the bed. As soon as his back was to the teenagers, they carefully and quietly stepped off their respective beds and slipped out of the room. Pausing in the office room for a moment, they waited until they could hear the two talking before activating the motion sensor by moving close to the door. Spock eyed him with a trace of annoyed disbelief, as if he was doubtful as to how that had actually worked.

"It's a starship," Jim muttered to him as they walked down the hallway. "I'll bet they see weird shit like that all the time."

"Why did the ensign not find your clothing choice suspicious?" Spock asked bluntly, the lack of emotion in his voice revealing his exasperation by its careful guard. Jim looked down at his aviator's jacket and jeans, then shrugged.

"Dunno. Maybe he didn't look hard enough. Let's get out of the hallway before someone spots us or McCoy works out what happened."

Spock took the next possible turn, pace increasing. His longer strides forced Jim to work to keep up with him, almost jogging. Whenever they heard voices, Spock would take them down a different corridor, somehow preventing them each time from coming into contact with anyone else. As they walked, they kept an eye on doors, looking for a room they might be able to stay in for a while. Spock finally stepped over to a turbo lift, pausing a moment to listen for something, and then tapping the console to summon it.

Jim kept quiet, unsure of how fast they were going to have move and not wanting to distract Spock from his concentration. As soon as they had the chance to talk about more mundane things, he was going to ask about Vulcan hearing, and then if he had actually somehow studied the layout of the ship. They were moving too quickly and there had been too few close calls for it to be chance. Whatever the case, Jim mentally thanked whoever would listen that he wasn't stuck with a whiney teenager, and instead was cohorts was with an entirely competent one.

The lift stopped and the doors opened on an open deck. Spock quickly moved out and sidestepped, keeping close to the wall. Jim followed closely, doing his best to stay low without being suspicious and watch their backs, while Spock led them deeper into the deck. The catwalks they were walking on were suspended above the main section, efficiently connecting most of the deck together, with a stairs every once in a while to allow one to descend below. It looked like the engineering platform, if the enormity of it and the amount of red shirts running around beneath their feet was anything to go by.

Spock picked one of the stairs and started climbing down, moving almost silently. In comparison, Jim's steps seemed like he was dropping a rock on each one, announcing to anyone below exactly where he was. He slowed down, trying to be quieter, but Spock was already at the bottom while he still had another landing to get down, and it didn't look like anyone else was nearby. With a frustrated noise, he grabbed the railing and hauled himself over it, then lowered one hand to the bar beneath the railing to hang from it. He glanced down to gauge the distance, then dropped as lightly as he could to land on his feet, bending his knees to absorb the shock.

They set off again, moving away from the largest hub of noise to the most secluded corner of the deck. Jim kept expecting to hear a red alert warning go off, or at least some sort of commotion as security began looking for them. The longer they went without anything happening, the more wary and suspicious he became as they moved. He kept his gaze up, watching for the security team he was sure was going to appear at some point. While he never saw any, he did spot the tech on an upper catwalk before Spock did and reached out to grab his compatriot and pull him back out of sight before the woman caught a glance of them. He pointed her out as discretely as he could to Spock, who changed their course to accommodate. After that, Jim made certain to keep his eyes up, smug that he finally had some use after the med bay.

Sightings of engineers were becoming sparser as they walked, and Spock's pace decreased as he no longer had to focus on staying ahead of the ebb and flow of people going about their daily business. Finally, in a crevice between a large tank of something and a wall, they came to a stop, sitting down to rest and make themselves smaller targets.

"Why do you think security's not out yet?" he blurted, unable to keep the question back any longer.

"The disappearance of two untrained minors into a starship is not threatening enough to warrant a search by a full security team," Spock calmly explained, and Jim immediately felt stupid for his unwarranted concern. "A small announcement via communicators has most likely been made to alert the crew to the situation, and we will be directed back to med bay if found."

"Right…" Jim was deepest in the corner, and he shuffled awkwardly to get into a better position. Spock's darker appearance made him appear to be more in the shadow, and his place closer to the exit would give him advance warning if someone was coming. "Okay, what do you think triggered us getting pulled up here?"

As Spock spoke, Jim carefully watched his expression, trying to find the small slip ups that revealed his true thoughts. Without much thought to it, Spock really did seem to be a computer, just speaking when spoken to and responding in calculated detail. But when Jim started paying particular attention, especially to his eyes, the little things began giving him away.

"The attempt must have been a unique combination of situational factors to cause us to be pulled here. From Engineer Scotty's reaction, our appearance aboard the ship was not intentional. Furthermore, unless you have been dishonest in speaking of your actions previous to your arrival here, neither of us were in any position to trigger the transporter."

His gaze flickered over Jim's face on the last sentence, as if looking for a reaction. Since Jim was scrutinizing him in return, it seemed fair enough. "I didn't lie. Do you think we can get back?"

"The answer I could supply you with would be provided with little information. Until further notice, it would be best to wait for more data before making a judgment on our status."

Jim nodded absently. "Okay..."

"What are your observations of your counterpart? You easily mimicked him in front of the ensign."

Jim paused, tapping his fingers along his knee for a moment and staring at the wall opposite him. They'd barely been in each other's company for ten minutes before he and the older Spock had fled the room, hardly enough time to make a decent observation, but enough for him to get a general idea. "Well…he could definitely be a future version of me. I mean, he acted a lot like me, but with enough differences that I'd still have to grow into him. What about you?"

"I am ninety-seven percent certain that I would have become my older counterpart in this timeline had our histories not been disrupted."

Jim grinned at him, earning the slightest twitch of an eyebrow. "That's so awesome."

Spock stared at him. "Specify."

"You can calculate odds like that in your head. I mean, damn, I'm not sure half my class can do multiplication with two two-digit numbers without writing it down. Can all Vulcans do that?"

His comment appeared to have taken him off guard. Score for Jim. "I…do believe so."

"Still awesome. Is there a trick to it or do you just…do it?"

"The latter is a more accurate assessment. Vulcans process information too rapidly for conscious deliberation to be performed over minute details to enable anything in the form of a 'trick'."

"And your _word choice_! Screw Iowa, I'm going home with you instead."

Spock paused _again_, and there was a green tinge rising in his cheeks. "Perhaps that would not be such a wise endeavor. Apart from myself, the entirety of Vulcan would be foreign to you, and your familial relatives would certainly be searching for you."

Yeah, all three of them. Sam probably wouldn't even hear he was missing for another few years, if he ever decided to check back in, and it would be another month before his mom was back in range to receive a message, unless Frank decided to pay extra for an emergency message. The chances of that happening were just about the same as him being randomly transported onto the ship of his future self.

But still, he would hardly go unnoticed on Vulcan, and he'd heard it was horribly hot.

He settled for replying, "Maybe..." and ending the topic there. "Hey, so supposedly we meet up in the future and run a starship together, right?"

"In this universe, it appears that would be what will happen."

"Then it doesn't matter if we get together earlier than that, right? It's only a few days' wait to get a message to Vulcan from Earth, and I'll bet it's the same the other way around. We can message each other when we get back!"

Spock didn't pause this time. "Our parents will be inquisitive if they notice we are making contact with someone off world. Have you ever left Earth?"

"No, but my stepdad won't notice and my mom's usually in space so…"

"I could send messages from the nearest research lab and my parents would be unable to learn of my communications unless I gave them reason to be suspicious."

"Cool! I live in Riverside, Iowa. There should only be one James T. Kirk there."

"I would tell you my own home location, but it would be simpler for me to contact you and for you to return the message."

Jim nodded, then started awkwardly getting to his feet in the small space. "We need to change locations before they start looking for us. If they do a heat signature scan, they'll find two random unmoving sources in a barely trafficked area. Besides, we're backed into a corner. If anyone came this way, we wouldn't have anywhere to run."

Spock tilted his head, curious. Another score for Jim – expressions! That was a new aspect to this conversation. "Then where would you suggest we rest next?"

"Somewhere without a lot of traffic, but where our heat signatures might be obscured by something. And then we should probably walk around every few minutes, even split up for a bit before getting back together in a different location."

"…Surprisingly logical…" His words trailed off, a brief uncertainty forcing him to consider whether to call him Kirk, James, or Jim.

"Jim. Let's go!"

{_But I could use some help._}

They evaded everyone for fourteen point six hours, according to Spock, before they ran into a distinct problem.

"Shh!" Jim hissed, frowning at his belly as it rumbled again.

"Scolding your stomach will do little to affect the situation," Spock pointed out as he poked his midsection, sending mental messages to his stomach muscles to cut it out. "The only reasonable solution involves locating food."

Jim groaned, running a hand over his face. "If only I'd brought the tomatoes! We were in such a hurry to leave that I completely left them behind!"

It didn't help that the captain had made a ship-wide announcement four hours ago regarding them. "_If you see a Midget Me and/or a Midget Spock, don't believe them if they say they were de-aged. Midget Me and Midget Spock, we have your tomatoes hostage. Go find Doctor McCoy in sickbay if you want to see them again."_

"Think they've worked it out yet?" Jim asked, sitting on top of the generator beside Spock. They were both wedged back to back to lower the risk of someone walking back and happening to see them if they shot a glance up. Spock had hooked his legs around the lower part of the railing of the catwalk above them, and then lowered Jim to the generator before turning around and dropping down softly.

Now, their butts comfortably warm and safe from detection, Jim's thoughts were turning to food. He suspected Spock was able to hold on without food longer, or he just wouldn't mention it for a few days even if he was, but Jim was human and a teenager, which was a dangerous combination when it came to metabolism. Maybe they should've thought to snag some food before getting up here… However, the only way down now would be to either attempt the twenty meter drop to the ground below, which Jim was advocating against, or have one of them get on the other's shoulders to try and reach the catwalk above their heads. In any case, it would be difficult and possibly not worth the effort just yet.

"You are referring to the transportation error that brought us here?"

"Yeah."

"Possibly. The factor it is most dependent on is how much time their engineers and science officers have had to devote to uncovering it. Now that we have had enough time to discuss the necessary topics, however, I am uncertain as to why we have not yet revealed ourselves."

Jim turned his head over his shoulder to grin at him. "Because it's funny."

Spock had stopped being surprised by Jim's more irrational responses hours ago. "I hardly see the humor in this."

"There's an entire ship of trained specialists we're outwitting. I'm going to enjoy holding this over my counterpart's head for as long as we're here."

"Psst!" They both exchanged looks, then started turning their gazes around to locate the voice. "Hey! Up here!"

Two men, one barely an adult, and the other of Asian descent, were lying stomach-down on the catwalk above them, having crept quietly into place. Nearby, the engineer Scotty was keeping a lookout for them, eyes scanning the area. The two newcomers were both wearing command gold, and a stack of small wrapped packages was waiting to the side of the younger, who appeared to be the one who had called out to them.

"Who're you?" Jim asked, bewildered.

"Helmsman Hikaru Sulu and Navigator Pavel Chekov!" The Russian grinned and held up one of the packages. "We zought you might be getting hungry!"

Jim laughed, holding a hand over his mouth to stifle it as the Russian and Japanese man began tossing down the packages, which Spock caught with flawless accuracy. This ship was so awesome. "You guys were just in time!" he quietly called, taking one of the packages and opening it. "Oooh! BLTs!"

"What is the benefit of concealing our location from your captain?" Spock asked, not touching one of the packages even as Jim was halfway through his first.

Sulu smirked. "It's funny." Whether he knew he was mimicking Jim or not, it still got a snort out of the teenager, who barely avoided choking on the sandwich. "The only reason we found you was because Chekov here went back through the records and tracked you from the sickbay all the way down here, and then started looking for a pair that stuck together the whole time."

"And zen I looked for wanishing heat signatures by the hottest sections of the engineering deck, but zat includes a lot of people, so it took a long time to narrow it down to you. I am wery impressed you got down zere!"

"Yeah," Scotty said, turning over his shoulder for a moment. "But how are you getting back up?" He started, staring at Jim. "Is that your second already?!"

Jim held up three fingers as he started on another one.

"We will combine our height to reach the catwalk, from which point we will pull ourselves up in a reverse fashion from how we climbed down," Spock answered calmly, neatly unwrapping his first sandwich. "Are you endeavoring to remain unseen there for an extended period of time?"

Sulu shrugged. "Probably."

"You'll be fine," Jim said, pausing in his fifth sandwich. "We've been here for, like, four hours-"

"Three point six."

"-three point six hours and only one guy's gone passed. Hey, Scotty, did you figure out what happened?"

The engineer proudly puffed out his chest. "That I did! After locating the source of the problem, I ran it through Chekov and Spock, and I'm still waiting on Spock's analysis of how to reverse it. It shouldn't take him much longer now."

Spock tilted his head to the side. "I would be interested to learn how you accomplished such a feat so quickly."

Scotty snorted in laughter. "Looks like you're both manipulative in your wee years! Not much changes, I'll say that." He started off down the catwalk. "Gimme a moment, young Spock, and you'll have your information, or my name's not Montgomery Scott!"

"What were you doing?" Jim asked Chekov before Spock could comment on the illogic of Scotty's word choice. "You were helping with the formulas, right?"

Chekov nodded. "I used chaos theory to backtrack your path here. We are relatively certain we can safely return you now."

"Cool!"

"It has been longer than a moment," Spock said blandly. "Does that mean the engineer's name is _not_ Montgomery Scott?"

"It's just a phrase," Jim said quickly. "Both parts of that sentence. He just meant he'll get it to you quickly."

"What is the purpose of such improbable statements in common conversation?" Spock asked.

Jim paused. "Uhhh." Shifting slightly, he finally said, "I don't know. There's a lot of things we say that don't make sense. Like 'Cat got your tongue'." The look on Spock's face at that phrase was worth admitting he was ignorant about something.

Someone stomping irritably up the stairs made all of them jump as a woman in red stalked closer, glaring daggers at all of them. "And what," she demanded, "is the purpose of lying on the floor, hm, Sulu, Chekov?"

"Ahhh…" Chekov stalled, glancing around nervously as Sulu scrambled to his feet. "We are enjoying ze good air conditioning. Very nice unit nearby."

"Better than your quarter's unit?" she snapped, coming to a stop with hands on her hips.

Chekov sprawled out on the ground. "Yes, but this has good view of the warp core!" He pointed to prove his point, but the new lady didn't amuse him by looking. "See, almost looks like a…uh…like a very nice warp core," he finished weakly. "Very nice."

She leveled her gaze on Sulu.

"I was examining the reactions of a certain kind of fungus on stainless steel with the conditions of the engineering room," he responded, face remarkably blank. Jim would have applauded him, but he was too busy remaining absolutely silent and still. At least his stomach was no longer growling.

"Really? Where is it?" she said flatly.

"I was just applying the first coat, so it's still microscopic and can't be observed quite yet," Sulu hedged.

"Right. And so what was Scotty doing up here?"

"Scotty?" Chekov asked innocently. If it hadn't been obvious that they worked together, Jim could have easily pictured him adding a, "Who?"

"I passed him on the way up."

"He was just talking to us, but he's still on shift so he decided to go back to work," Sulu told her, still completely straight-faced. It was rather admirable.

The woman glared at him. "Sulu, I know he found them." She pointed at Chekov, who groaned slightly. "Are they up there?" she asked, redirecting her finger to the pipes overhead. Chekov winced, shaking his head.

"Promise not to give them up?" he asked, hesitating as he did so.

She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Are you really in a position to negotiate?"

"Oh, my darling!" Scotty said as he reappeared with a PADD in hand. His gaze flickered questioningly between her and the other two bridge members. "What a surprise!"

"Is it really."

"If we do not reveal ourselves," Spock breathed in Jim's ear, "we may cause trouble for Helmsman Sulu, Engineer Scott, and Navigator Chekov. They do not appear willing to acknowledge the chances of us getting away unnoticed."

Jim nodded. "Besides, they might get in trouble." He got to his feet, putting a hand on Spock's shoulder to steady himself. "Hey, shouting lady!" he called, waving his hand. Her gaze snapped down to him and the three men winced simultaneously. "How you doing?"

"You'll never command the _Enterprise_ if I strangle you," she snapped, eyeing the distance from the catwalk to the generator. "How did you…?" she asked, the stern behavior falling away for a moment.

Jim sighed, exchanging a look with Spock, who was standing beside him. "That appears to be the question everyone wants to ask today, huh?"

"And how are you getting back up?"

"And question number two, right there."

Scott waved the PADD. "At any rate, if you get up here you can look at the data." He glanced at the woman, and the conversation was redirected to the four adults on the catwalk. "Are you going to contact the captain and commander?"

She huffed out an annoyed breath. "_Someone_ should! McCoy's about to lose his head."

"But you'll never have a chance again to pull one over the captain like this," Scotty pointed out carefully. That made the woman stop and think, and the three men eagerly watched her in anticipation of what she would say. She mulled it over, eyes on the ceiling while she deliberated.

Below, Spock and Jim moved onto their planned ascent, with Jim crouching so Spock could get onto his back. Jim took a deep breath and then stood, stumbling slightly under the weight before he steadied himself. When he was balanced, Spock began climbing up until his knees were on Jim's shoulders. There he hesitated, not certain about how to continue with putting one of them in more danger. Jim raised both hands, holding them still, and Spock caught on, using them to keep his body steady while he carefully got his feet on Jim's shoulders.

Jim gripped his legs as he rose, slowly standing up until he could stretch his arms over his head. The woman started to speak, but looked down and jumped as she saw Spock getting closer. "What are you doing?!" she demanded.

"Hang on, lady!" Jim called out, feeling Spock shift on his shoulders. With a glance up, he saw him stretch further, the bottom of the walkway just out of reach. "Spock, on three!" The Vulcan glanced down, nodding slightly. "One, two, three!" Jim pushed up onto his toes, hopping as best as he could with the extra weight and trying to help shove his legs up for extra height. Spock bent his knees and straightened at the same time, grabbing onto the walkway and pulling himself up. His legs swung as he got a grip and pulled his torso over, straightening his arms so he could climb the rest of the way onto the catwalk.

With the bridge crew gaping, he turned over onto his back, hooked his legs on the railing to hold himself, and dropped the rest of the way over to let his arms sway beneath him. Jim nodded at him inquisitively, which Spock returned to show he was ready, and then backed up to the edge of the generator. He ran forward and jumped, hanging in midair for a moment before he felt Spock's hands catch his wrists, clamping down on them as Jim began to drop. "All right," Jim said, and Spock curled up, his chest coming to rest against the railing in a feat of strength that boggled Jim's mind until he recalled the Vulcan strength Spock had mentioned earlier.

Spock released one hand, allowing Jim to grab the railing and swing his legs around to snag onto the bars. He wrapped an elbow around the top portion of the railing, using it to hoist himself over. The two climbed to their feet, Spock standing perfectly still and Jim leaning against the railing with a yawn, as if nothing had happened.

"And that," he told everyone gaping, "is how we were planning on getting back up."

Scotty slowly started clapping.

{_Stand with me…_}

"Midget Jim! Midget Spock! Nice of you to finally join us," the captain said, striding in with a grin. His walk was stilted, though, as if he was forcing his easy-going nature. His brief glance back at his Spock further belied his unease.

Jim scowled at him from his seat between Spock and Chekov. "_Midget_? I'm still growing, thanks!"

The reason for the lady, who had introduced herself as Nyota Uhura after they had climbed up, coming to look for the rest of the bridge crew was because of a message she had been given by the captain and first officer. Since she'd found the two kids as well, she'd grabbed them and brought them to med bay while everyone else went for a chat with old Kirk and old Spock. Ten minutes later, McCoy, who was clearly in the know about what was going on, got the okay to bring the teenagers into the conference room for a talk. Jim decidedly did not let any of this unease him.

McCoy folded his arms irritably. "Look, I've got other things to do. Can we speed this up a bit?"

The two commanding officers each took a chair and the captain launched into his explanation, his uncertainty quickly revealing itself. "Spock, McCoy, and myself had a conversation about the morality of telling you the future. The rest of the bridge crew is backing up our agreement, but we want to hear your thoughts on it first."

"I guess it depends what you want to tell us," Jim said. "I mean, is it going to save someone's life?"

"It could save billions of lives," his older counterpart said, and both Jim and Spock stilled. "In our experiences, there have been two mass murderers, both responsible for different catastrophes. If you have forewarning about what will happen, events will not go the same way as they did in our timeline. However, if you screw it up, you could risk more lives in the process. There's someone else who went through a time portal and is stuck here, and he's choosing to keep most of the information that he knows to himself because the timelines are significantly different and we could wreck our own if we're not careful with anything we learn from him. But from our discussion earlier, yours is close enough that you could potentially save a lot of people who we couldn't. Keeping in mind that you could potentially hurt more people, do you want us to continue?"

Jim glanced at Spock, uncertain. His friend met his gaze, then looked at the first officer. "What is the ratio of those potentially saved to those potentially endangered?"

"A maximum of 7,052,534 to a maximum of an estimated 1,215, unless the entire population of Earth is factored in. However, we suspect your chances of failing at saving Earth with the proper information at less than three percent."

Jim looked at Spock again, and caught the faint twitch of his eyelids, the barest perception of a nod. He turned back to the commanding officers. "Let's do it."

The captain nodded, clearly having expected this. "Try and remember as much of it as you can. We're going to tell you about Nero and Khan."

{_…and watch me mold our fates with my hands._}

"Remember," Jim muttered to Spock as they stepped onto the transporter pad, ready to beam back to their respective time and worlds, "Riverside."

"James T. Kirk," was the response. "I will not forget."

* * *

a/n: The bracketed statements have a purpose, before you ask. I'm not ready to reveal it yet, though.

This isn't going to be about how little Jim and little Spock save the world because of all their new knowledge now. It's about what would happen if the whole bridge of the _Enterprise_ got together almost a decade before any of them should have ever met.

Please review! It encourages me to update faster, really, and I'll be interested to hear your thoughts. This is my first time writing a Star Trek story. (By the way, I do know that Vulcans are touch telepaths, and I do know what happened on Tarsus IV – young Spock's and old Jim's lack of explanations are going to be explained throughout the story, although you might be able to guess old Jim's reasoning by what he told young Jim.)


	2. Chapter 2

a/n: For the physical punishment talk, I'm going with what's true now in America. I have two relatives with jobs in the law, so I'm not just making this up or taking it off Wikipedia. Also, I'm going with military time/twenty-four hour time for the future, even outside of Starfleet.

* * *

[_I'm not sure I'm the best person for this._]

After Frank finished yelling at him, demanding where he'd put the tomatoes and getting more furious when Jim responded, "In another timeline," he was very, very grounded. The difference between Jim and most people was that "grounded" meant "stuck at home", which just meant he stayed home instead of going out with friends.

Friends. Hah. He had one, and he couldn't actually go out with that friend unless Jim decided to flee Earth, which wasn't wholly a bad idea, but that would probably get him called "illogical" so many times he'd feel dizzy.

Jim flopped down at his bed and stared at the ceiling for a moment. Below his floor, he could hear Frank still stomping around downstairs, working himself into even more of a fury. Something broke and Jim winced slightly. Sounded like glass, so maybe a plate – despite what the media liked to do in action shows, most glass bottles actually don't break on impact. The average glass bottle can dent a wooden two by four without cracking itself, which Jim had looked up the first time Frank had thrown one at him.

Sheesh, Frank was really taking this tomato thing seriously. The look on his face if Jim actually contacted Spock and showed him he really had gone off world would be too incredible to contemplate…but the consequences of it weren't worth the smug satisfaction.

His monitor beeped softly at him, and he rolled over to look at it. A message had been sent his way a few minutes ago, while he had still been downstairs, but he had made no action towards it so the console was alerting him to it again. Jim grinned, rolling off his bed and hurrying to it to answer. He dragged a chair over by hooking a foot around it as he reached up to tap the screen. There were only two people who he could expect to contact him, and that was his mom and…

Spock appeared on the other end of the communication. From what little Jim could see, he was in an alcove with a table in front of him, on which his hands were clasped together.

Jim's grin widened. "That was fast."

"Indeed. I had no other previously planned engagements for the day, which allowed me to come to the lab without alerting anyone." His gaze flickered over Jim's face for a moment. "I do not presume the same for you, however."

"Huh?" He raised his hand to brush at the spot Spock's eyes had gone to, and winced slightly as it unexpectedly tugged at a small cut on his cheek. That was probably from where Frank had backhanded him. He'd been too busy yelling to do much more than that. "Oh, yeah." It wasn't exactly a topic he wanted to discuss, even if it was the reason he was going to have to keep his voice down.

Besides, he was positive that Vulcans had some sort of peace and love of life thing going on, and he had a feeling Spock wasn't exactly going to like hearing about such human actions that seemed to be an exact opposite to those ideals. But the last half day had let him in on some of Spock's tells, such as the twitch of his eyes to the left whenever he was thinking hard about something – or scheming, whatever you wanted to call it. In addition, Jim could practically feel the frigid air around Spock, a nonverbal warning to stop now that he was probably unaware that he was exuding. It wasn't frustration at Jim, or anger at anything in particular. However, he had tilted his head to the side slightly, almost too small to be noticed, but in a sharp gesture at Jim's offhanded "Oh, yeah," which suggested disagreement. Compiling all of that, Jim's best guest was that Spock was in disapproval over something that he wanted corrected.

Translation to Human: Spock didn't like that he'd been hit, which he probably already knew because of the slight abrasions around the cut in comparison to hand size or something equally unexpected. Man, learning this guy's body language was going to be the best thing he'd ever done. It was totally awesome.

"It's, like, 2200 here," he checked the clock before Spock could correct him, "2240, so I guess the same amount of time passed in both places. Same with you?"

"Yes. However, I had already made arrangements to be away from home for today, so my absence was not missed." When Jim blinked at him in confusion, he added, "I had planned to travel out into the desert during the night, when it is cooler, and return in the morning. My parents believe I have done so and made a study of a planet that grows outside of the urban zone."

"Oh." Jim could honestly say that Frank would probably throw the table at him if he said he did something like that. He was kind of surprised he hadn't with his most recent excuse. "What're you going to do if they ask you about your observations?"

"I will elaborate on my previous findings without informing them that the information I tell them is not from the night they are asking about."

So not exactly a lie, but close enough to not be entirely acceptable, if Spock's apparent discomfort was a clue.

The screen door slapped shut on the first floor, and Jim paused until he heard Frank's footsteps walk off the porch. Probably heading off to go check on his car. He could spend hours out there, even in the middle of the night like now. When Jim turned back to the console, he saw Spock patiently waiting for an explanation, not saying anything but curious in his own way about what had taken place. After everything that had happened the last day, Jim at least owed him some acknowledgment for his concern, if it could be called that.

"My stepdad. It wasn't the middle of the night here when we left and I can't bring back the tomatoes now, so he wasn't too happy with me."

"Are your mental and physical processes functioning acceptably?"

…Did Spock – _Spock_ of all people – just ask if he was okay?

The absurdity of the statement made him laugh. "Yeah, I'm fine. He's usually got a temper."

"I am…curious as to why this treatment is allowed."

"Two reasons." Jim held up fingers to demonstrate, although both were well aware the Vulcan could keep track of numbers. Bending one, he said, "My mom's off planet and it's just the two of us here. I guess you could say I'm a handful, so no one's really going to blame him for smacking me upside the head once or twice." Bending the second, he continued. "And it's not illegal. In the media, we make it seem like hitting a minor immediately makes someone a terrible person, but with certain limitations, it's also just punishment. So he can slap me, but he can't, like, hit me so many times I pass out or something." Maybe that wasn't the best example. Spock didn't look so well now.

After a definite pause, Spock said, "On Vulcan, one would be banished for harming a child."

"On Earth, the children are rarely as polite as Vulcans." He gave a wry smile. "Besides, this isn't common. It's just for bad cases."

Spock's hands disappeared from off the table in front of him, but not before Jim saw the tremble that ran through them. He really needed to start thinking before he opened his mouth. And maybe not show up with another visible cut or bruise. Yeah, that sounded like a plan.

"Oh!" he said, brightening considerably and trying not to make his change of topic too obvious. "So, I _think_ I remember the names of everyone we met, and even if I try to forget, I don't think I'm going to. Anyway, if we join Starfleet, and we meet these people…again?...how are we going to pretend we don't know them?"

Spock went with the topic change, thankfully. "I suggest we endeavor to avoid mentioning their future selves." His dry tone made Jim's faked grin become much more honest. "As the crew was understandably interested in us, we did not have much of a chance to ask about them in return. We know little that could arise in conversation and reveal our inside knowledge of their future and past."

"Yeah, I guess the only people we really spoke to were our future selves and the doctor…" Jim rested his chin on one hand, frowning thoughtfully. "So should we keep a look out for them? If we join Starfleet?"

"It would be inadvisable. From their description of how events proceeded in their time, we will meet all of them, sans Dr. McCoy for you and Lieutenant Uhura for me, on the bridge of the _Enterprise_."

"Aww, but that's no fun! Just imagine, if we brought them all together beforehand and started training everyone as a group, we'd have one kickass bridge crew." The unlimited possibilities that could unleash was almost frightening. From Spock's expression, they weren't in agreement on this. However, Jim liked to think of it as fond exasperation.

"You do not take age into consideration. At this time, Leonard McCoy, as the oldest, will be entering medical school, but Pavel Chekov, the youngest, can hardly be older than ten."

Jim frowned. Even without Spock's analysis, he was able to bring up a mental picture of the Russian they had met. In comparison to everyone around him, he certainly had been remarkably young. It hadn't caused him any problems, though, with his brain. "Oh yeah, that's true… But he was also a prodigy, right?"

"He was. However, maturity is a necessary factor in development, which is only acquired through experience. He has no yet had the time to grow."

With a shrug and a return of his smile, Jim suggested, "But at the very least, we could go find our own McCoy and piss him off!" The outrageous idea was enough to spark an amused look in Spock's eyes that Jim pretended not to see.

He let the conversation drift away from the topic of what they had seen and onto what they were doing now. School was starting for him in a couple of months, but he planned to pester the teachers into letting him take the finals and test out of as many classes as he could so he'd have more free time. Spock's education was more rigid, as it adapted to what he already knew and built on it. The students of Vulcan were expected to spend half their of their studies in the educational facilities and half getting practical experience, such as Spock's planned walk out into the desert. While it meant he would be a lot busier than Kirk, it also meant he would have more access to a console to contact Jim.

They talked briefly about family life. It took less time to agree on the fact that their mothers were awesome than it did to actually name them. Of course, Spock didn't really say it out loud, but it was the eyes again that gave him away. On the _Enterprise_, the bridge crew had not specified whether Spock's family had made it, and Jim couldn't see how they would have gotten off planet fast enough. Neither brought it up. The topic of Jim's father, who he had mentioned in passing while they had been sitting on the generator, also was not spoken of. In both cases, there was nothing else to add to it. After all, what would they do about it now?

It was another two hours before either admitted they needed to leave before the lengthy conversation became suspicious to those around them.

[_I'm not even sure I should put faith in myself._]

Jim dreamed of the _Enterprise _that night.

He felt the hum of the energy around him, under his feet, beneath his hands, in the air.

He heard the warm buzz of life, the crew that repaired the ship and kept her soaring.

But most of all, he sensed her presence again, that beckoning to stay aboard. As if she existed now only in Jim's mind, the phantom future of what could be, she crooned out softly to call her bridge back to her. The life she sustained, the ideal of her, was only alive with a crew to direct her, to let her take them out to unknown worlds and new lands.

Jim woke up with tears on his face and a promise on his lips. "I will be among the stars again," he whispered to the silent room. "I'll go with you, _Enterprise_."

[_But despite my many doubts…_]

He was in a tree a week later Spock called, the fourth time they had communicated after their return to their worlds. The raise of an eyebrow was the only thing Spock needed to do to ask a question, and the answering grin was the only response necessary.

Even so, for formality's sake, Jim verbally explained, "My mom came home for a few weeks. Frank might not notice if you beamed down in the middle of the living room, but she might if I'm talking to someone."

"Am I interrupting anything?" Spock asked, clearly unable to come up with a logical reason of why Jim would be in a tree.

"Of course not! I've always got time for you." Sometimes, Jim said things to just to see Spock's reaction. "I was just doing homework, but I'm pretty much done with it and the rest is due in a week, so… Yeah, anyway. Oh, yeah, Mom pulled me aside and guess what she asked!"

Spock did the eyebrow thing again. For a while, he had attempted to never give off any emotion whatsoever. Jim had worn him down enough to eyebrow raising. He called that success. "It would be illogical of me to attempt to contemplate the vast amount of inquiries she might have made to you, and even more illogical to attempt to predict which you would find so fascinating."

"She told me she's thinking she might life off planet, go out and stay near the colony where her company grows plants. Thing is, Frank doesn't want to leave, and they've been fine not seeing each other for months on end without even communicating, so there's not really any point in staying married. She's thinking about divorce!"

His enthusiasm was contagious, because while Spock clearly didn't understand the exact source of his excitement, his eyes still smiled with Jim. "How likely is she to follow through with her words?"

"I don't know, but maybe I can convince her it's a good idea. She's seriously considering it, at least. I'm not sure if Frank knows about it or not yet."

[_…and despite all of my fears…_]

That night, it was the crew instead of the ship. Friendly faces, above him but not looking down on him. Concerned for his safety, but willing to let him help himself up. Settled around conference table, not knowing him but having enough faith in who he would become to trust him with incredibly precious knowledge.

Surprised to see him, but delighted all the same, because he was just another aspect of the Jim he knew. And even if they weren't entirely seeing him for who he was, he was still wanted. There was disappointment when he left, that he couldn't stay longer with them. It wasn't hard to say he almost wished he could have just remained behind, not returning to his own time.

But there was an _Enterprise_ back home for him too.

And that meant there was a crew as well.

This time, when he woke up, it was the promise of, "I'll find all of you. I'll never let you down."

[_…I know I'll keep you alive…_]

"Starfleet. What do you think?"

Spock inclined his head slightly. "In reference to what, specifically?"

"Joining. Think we should do it?"

It had been an entire month since their return. Jim's mother had left again, saying she would be back soon. He saw her off, knowing she said that every time and 'soon' was gradually getting longer and longer. Spock's analysis of his desert planet had gone over well, if Jim was reading between the lines correctly. For the most part, he felt he was getting better at deducing what his friend wasn't saying out loud.

His question seemed to confuse Spock. "Is there a reason not to?"

He grinned. "I don't know. Maybe it would be boring now that we know what will happen."

"I am not so certain of that. Our knowledge of future events will change our responses, and it is highly unlikely that any of them will proceed similarly. For instance, Khan was awoken after Starfleet located his ship in the midst of a search that was a response to Nero's war crimes. If Nero is defeated in a dissimilar fashion to before, Starfleet may never locate Khan in this time."

Jim shrugged, leaning back in his chair. For the most part, they generally called each other from the same place. Spock, from the labs, Jim, from his room. Neither had been caught yet, and one would leave without a word if they ever thought someone was close. If they kept this up, it looked like they would both make it to the Academy without anyone ever being the wiser as to how they met. "Yeah. Funny, though, how the same bridge crew keeps ending up on the same ship."

"Certainly fascinating. Should another time anomaly occur, I would be most interested in investigating the matter."

"Right, but I get the feeling that the only reason they told us about the parallel worlds was because we were going to come back to one and because your old, other time self is going to get frostbite on Delta Vega if we don't stop by to pick him up at some point." The thought of that made him stop for a moment. Similarly, Spock looked off to the side for a moment, considering the notion. "Wait… How are we possibly going to explain how we knew he was down there? And then we're going to have to explain to him what happened to us if we ever need his help. Man, that's going to be weird."

"If the analysis of our parallel future selves stays true in this time, he should be able to grasp the concept easily, especially since he will have travelled through to another time to arrive here."

"Good point."

The faces of the crew flickered across his mind for a moment. Chekov and Sulu, throwing sandwiches down to them. Scotty and the random crew member, running off on a moment's notice to help with anything they needed. Uhura and McCoy, grudgingly appreciative and protective.

The temptation to ask about them was strong, to go out and find his crew. But Spock was right. They needed their experience, and that wasn't something he could give them just yet. In ten years, maybe less, it wouldn't matter anyway. With that thought in mind, he took a deep breath and faked a small smile. Spock's eyes didn't return it.

Like the other Spock, constantly calculating and assessing to give the most accurate report to his commander.

And now, he was saying Jim's effort at faking his emotions was not going to be received well tonight. Jim let the expression fade into a more natural, content expression. His friend didn't seem entirely satisfied, but there was no point in doing a charade with this when the game was already up. Whether or not Spock had accurately guessed what was going on in his mind was anyone's guess – or a Vulcan's situational appraisal – but it wouldn't take him long to guess if they remained on the topic.

"I guess it'll be a lot easier to talk when we're both living in the same city, huh? No more of this hiding in corners stuff."

Spock accepted his statement without questioning the slight subject change. "Indeed. However, it would not be wise to meet without having an explanation for our acquainted status."

His older self, smiling and… Jim wasn't quite sure how to describe him, or even who he was. It should have been the easiest assessment, but in this case, he just wasn't able to place it. Maybe it was for the best. If he grew up and never reached his full potential, at least he wouldn't know how disappointed he should be in himself. There was nothing like having a dead father and at least _two_ alternate universe selves to live up to that would make your future seem to be a mess of obstacles.

[…_because looking at you now…_]

He didn't dream that night. His thoughts kept him up until the early hours of the morning, when he finally got up and moved around the house in a half-hearted effort to tire his brain down a bit. What he had seen wasn't his own memories, and he wasn't sure if he had a right to it. Having butted into someone else's universe… Had they messed something up? Had he changed how his counterpart's coworkers viewed him, maybe for the worse?

More importantly, had the experience changed him in such a way that he would never step foot on the _Enterprise_ with her loyal crew?

Frank entered the kitchen at almost four o'clock. His jaw tightened at the sight of Jim sitting at the table, head propped up on one hand and staring absently into space. Jim stiffened in response, quickly pulling both hands out of view and staring back at Frank. He kept a guilty expression off his face, trying to blank it like Spock did instead.

Frank didn't care. It was a school night, he said, not time for plotting. That's what he said before he sent Jim to bed with bruises growing under his shirt.

[_…you believe in me_…]

Breathing was painful. A hacking cough had worked its way into his body, and he couldn't do much more than lie around and wait for it to pass. Frank had told him quite bluntly about how much of a waste of medication he was, so it looked like he was going to be toughing it out. At least it'd make his immune system stronger. Unfortunately, there was no way he was going to be able to talk to anyone, even Spock.

He was in bed for the seventh day straight, fever rising again after a drop. The covers were on the floor in a pile, kicked off hours ago when it got too hot. About twenty minutes ago, he'd dragged himself into the shower to try and cool himself off, but the heat was already fighting its way back. Supposedly, the heat was supposed to kill whatever invasion was in his body, but at this point it just felt like it was killing him. It was so pervasive to his thoughts that it had taken him two days to realize he hadn't eaten anything that whole time and was retching what little water he had swallowed.

Putting his head back, he sent out a brief hope that Frank had at least called the school. Somehow, he was going to have to make up the homework after all of this, but he didn't even care at this point. Right now, he just wanted to sleep, but everything was too hot for him to be comfortable enough to drift off.

When he opened his eyes, it was light outside again, but the sun was in a different place. He hadn't gone to sleep intentionally, but at least he'd gotten rest of some sort. A weak turn of his head gave him a view of the digital clock, with small numbers below to give the date. He'd killed about fifteen hours in that nap, but he didn't feel any better. The movement brought a bowl into view. Most of his senses were jacked up, with touch being hypersensitive and his sight blurring all over the place, so trying to smell the contents got him nowhere. It wasn't steaming but there was no condensation on the side, so it had probably been there for a while. Maybe Frank did actually care whether he died or not.

Nice thought, but Jim would rather not throw up again, thanks. Just air for him right now. Maybe not the smartest thing to keep his body functioning, but he couldn't give two craps at the moment.

Maybe he should just get back in the shower to try and cool down. Never mind that he'd just been in there, this was getting ridiculous.

A hand on his forehead made him blearily open his eyes. Frank was over him, mouth frowning in thought. He hadn't yet noticed his charge was awake, focused on gauging the temperature the medieval way. Turning away, he picked up the now-cold bowl and walked out of the room. Jim closed his eyes again, drifting back into limbo. A few minutes later, the soft padding of feet walking beside his bed wasn't enough to stir him. Frank put a fresh bowl down on the bedside table along with a glass of water, then left again.

With a groan of effort, Jim rolled onto his side and stared at the food. Wishing it would soak into his skin through diffusion so he didn't have to bother with movement, he watched it wistfully until Frank came back in with a pot that he set on the floor.

His eyes drifted to Frank, clouded over with illness. "Eat if you can," Frank said. "If you don't, you'll just get worse. Even if you throw up, maybe some of it will get down to your stomach. Try it in small bits. Same with the water. Got it?"

He weakly nodded, but the motion made him dizzy and he stopped until the room oriented itself correctly. At some point, Frank left. Neither of them would have tolerated Frank spoon feeding Jim, both too proud.

When he came to again, sometime at night, a part of his mind just said screw it. He reached over to the glass of water and carefully sipped some of it down. Ten minutes later when the roof didn't come caving in and it seemed to be somewhat settled, he tried for a bite of the cold soup. His throat was dry and it was hard to get it down, so he left it at that and waited to make sure his stomach wouldn't rebel. For both the water and food, the small bits seemed to have tricked his stomach into thinking nothing was there.

Slowly, carefully, he got the glass of water down first then started more determinedly on the soup. It took him from the time he had woken up until the six in the morning, but he felt accomplished when he was done. Feeling somewhat more awake than he had in quite a while, he crawled out of bed and made it to the shower again. Ten minutes later, free of the sweat that had stuck to his skin and with a moderately filled stomach, he got back into bed.

His movements had caught Frank's attention, and his stepfather returned to take away the dishes. He wordlessly refilled the water and brought back chicken broth. Somehow, Frank must have realized the chunks would have been harder for Frank to get down. Jim thought he managed to get an appreciative sound out, or maybe he was just hoping he had.

"Seems like the whole school caught whatever you've got," Frank said distantly. "They called it off, since half the classes are out. A few other areas nearby got hit, but you'll probably be better by the time they finally work out what it is. Hang in there for now, all right?"

Jim made a noise that could have meant anything. By the time Frank was out the door, he was asleep again.

The fever woke him up again, as it always did. He knew it was that and not Frank, because it was dark out and his stepfather was working the night shift this week. His coughs quickly turned into heaves, and he barely had time to lean over the bed to get near the pot. Thankfully, nothing came out but saliva. At least he was keeping something down, which was a big improvement. It would just help if he could stay coherent enough to gloat appropriately.

He leaned back into bed, breathing slowly to try not to start up more coughing. As soon as it was possible, he took a few more sips of water, deciding not to strain his body anymore by having any broth. Carefully, he managed to get the entire glass down, wincing each time he drank some as it tugged against the dry tissue of his throat. His trip to dreamland seemed to have ended, and he resigned himself to a few more hours of being painfully awake. His daily trips to a fetal position in the shower were becoming a regular thing, and he was beginning to contemplate one when he opened his eyes and saw the water. It was refilled, but something about that struck him as odd.

Pushing the thought aside, he rolled off the bed and crawled to the bathroom. Jim put his back to the wall and turned on the shower, letting it dribble over him until he felt cooler. He knew the feeling wouldn't last long once he stepped out, but reasonably he also knew he couldn't bring his body temperature down too far. With a sigh, he turned the water off and got dressed again in the same dirty clothes. He was barely able to make it to the shower and back, so he hadn't yet bothered changing clothes as well. Another day, maybe.

The bed was still hot from his body and he winced as he lowered himself back onto it. He closed his eyes, yearning for sleep but knowing it wouldn't come for a while yet. For the time being, he spent a few more minute hacking up his lungs, and then tried for some broth. Being mostly liquid, it went down fairly easily, and had more nutrients than the water.

"Attempt an estimated ingestion thirteen milliliters of water once every ten minutes, with an alternating fifteen milliliters of broth every fifteen minutes for maximized intake."

A part of Jim's brain died, while the rest coaxed him into lifting his head of the pillow to look over his shoulder. Perched in the corner of the room in a chair Jim was pretty sure hadn't been there before, Spock tilted his head slightly in acknowledgement.

"I am aware that the common greeting is 'Good morning', however, I do not see any benefits to your situation besides an increased awareness of your bedroom."

Jim let out his breath, slowly sinking back into the bed. If he had the strength to laugh, he was pretty sure he would have. As it was, he just spared a thought to how crazy the situation was before he attempted to formulate some sort of reply.

"Conversation will further exacerbate your respiratory functions. I recommend silence on your behalf," Spock said, as if guessing his intentions. "If you wish, I will alert you to the time for water and broth intake."

It was another few hours before he could talk. Between Spock's – pause. How had he gotten into the room? The windows were locked and he _knew_ Spock hadn't come through the door… - medicinal coaching and Jim's determination to converse with his friend, it wasn't as hard as it had been before to find the strength to move. They still had another two hours before Frank would return, a detail that explained his confusion over the refilled water, when Jim rolled over to face Spock, eyes bright for the first time in a week for a reason other than fever. Focused and intent, he was going to have this conversation now.

"How'd you get on Earth?" he croaked. Hey, he just wanted to talk. There was nothing in his requirements about it being dignified.

Spock's hands were folded in his lap as usual. The corners of the room hid him in shadow, although his posture was a dead giveaway as to his identity. "I made a vague suggestion to my mother that it might be wise to make cultural and biological comparisons between Earth and Vulcans to better understand my own reactions. She accepted the idea, and is currently under the regrettably incorrect assumption that I am at a library. As I had already been to her home before, I recommended that I find another location to research, which is why I was able to come to Kansas. She is visiting relatives for the next three point two five days." Of course, as a Vulcan, no one would have had any reason to believe he had other motives for his suggestion.

After all this time, which was really only a few weeks in retrospect but felt like an age, it still came as a mild surprise to watch him entirely miss the point of a question. "Yeah, but…why bother with the trip?"

Spock twitched slightly. Ah, so he _had_ known and was just dodging the answer. Instead of being exasperated, Jim suppressed a smile. Sick he may be, but he always seemed to be able to put anyone on edge. It was, in a way, Spock's own fault for having not expected this after so many conversations with him. For his part, though, Spock didn't seem irritated at Jim for it. Perhaps he had learned after all.

The real problem was going to be to get him to not beat around the bush. Instead of giving a straight answer, Spock had an unfortunate tendency to explain the steps he had taken to reach his own conclusions and then expect others to follow the same logic. The problem was that he would reach Planet A with that reasoning and Jim would make, locate, and stake out Planet 326, which wasn't even in the same script style, let alone a neighboring quadrant. Sometimes Jim had to read between the lines to work out where Spock was going with his point, but that was usually took too long for him to bother giving it much thought. Or, that's what he would say if Spock never spoke without having a reason for anything he said.

The silence in the room became pervasive until even Jim felt a chill from it through his fever cloud. Spock had yet to answer, which set off warning bells. He always had a fast answer ready, able to come up with an academically appropriate response almost instantly. The only reason he paused was if he was aware his response was not also socially appropriate for humans, which had never really been a problem with them because Jim was never one for that sort of thing anyway.

"Your stepfather is physically abusive."

Jim blinked. Hadn't they already had this conversation? Before he could debate the statement, Spock leaned forward slightly to adjust his position and the light caught his face for a moment. His unexpectedly solemn expression made Jim bite back his words before they caused more aggravation.

"You suffer an injury at a minimum of three times a week, generally mild, with occasional damage that suggests an uncontrolled outburst. A similarly aggressive gesture could accidentally cause severe trauma unintentionally and unexpectedly."

Honestly, he always thought he was rather safe. He and Frank both knew there were some temper problems with his stepfather, and the man once in a while made attempts to back off if he thought he might go too far. It wasn't common, but it was often enough for Jim to believe he wouldn't come to grievous harm. "Well…"

"After your week and a half long hiatus, I began to suspect he had caused substantial injury that prevented contact, and I made plans to ascertain your condition in person."

Wait, what? How long had he been sick if Spock had started planning after he'd been sick for almost two weeks? Just how much had the fever messed up his head?

"Thanks," Jim mumbled. "Sorry, I didn't know you'd be…" Worried.

But he didn't say it out loud, even if that was the predominant emotion in Spock's eyes.

"I had already been in the process of coming to Earth for a visit," Spock said. "The date adjustment was of little consequence to the overall plan."

"Huh?"

"You are lonely. It is not befitting of your mental and social aptitude, and is a matter I would have rectified as soon as possible." He said it without emotion or tone inflection, and kept his explanation much shorter than normal.

Maybe they should've had this conversation when Jim was more coherent after all because he was pretty sure he as hallucinating half of this.

"Spock…"

"Please rest. You are very sick and the length of your illness has taken a significant toll on your overall health. It would be unwise to continue this topic until a more suitable time has been presented."

Jim blew out his breath, sinking down against the pillow. "Fine, okay. But… Thanks for checking up on me. And flying across the galaxy for a visit. And for everything. And… Thanks."

"It would be illogical to allow anything less than your maximum function. You possess a higher mental aptitude than most of your peers that would be wastefully lost if it were allowed to deteriorate from lack of use." Before Jim could do much more than gape at the unexpected compliment, Spock continued. "In reference to your ability to adapt to new situations, for instance, I have reconsidered your suggestions in regards to the crew of the _Enterprise_."

If he hadn't been intently focused before, he certainly was now.

"While we did say that most of the bridge crew will be too young for contact to be reasonable, the doctor was older than both of us and should be approachable. If it would keep you engaged, I suggest we go to Georgia after your good health is restored to locate him."

Jim grinned. "If it takes me getting sick for you to change your mind, I'm going to be doing this more often!"

"Highly illogical, as your illness did not prompt my reconsiderations. Moreover, finding ailments to give yourself would be time-consuming and expensive."

"I was joking."

He slept well that night.

[_...and I could never disappoint you._]

* * *

a/n: I gave in. I'm on tumblr now.

On another note. About Frank: He's an asshole in most stories for this verse, and he's an asshole in this one too. But I'm trying to make him a believable asshole. Just because he and Jim butt heads often doesn't mean that they aren't going to acknowledge each other peacefully once in a while, like when one of them is so sick he doesn't even realize a week has gone by.


End file.
